A Letter For Helga
by Otter
Summary: Teenage Helga gets a letter from a long lost friend.
1.

(Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold or its characters. I have no connection with Nick. This is just for fun.)  
  
  
  
  
A Letter for Helga  
  
  
From: Arnold   
Base Camp  
Somewhere in Central America  
  
  
To: Helga G. Pataki  
1234 Vine St.  
Hillwood City  
State of Anticpation  
USA  
  
  
Dear Helga,  
  
How are you? I hope this letter finds you all right. I know it has been a long time since you last heard from me. I hope you'll forgive me for not keeping in touch since I left Hillwood eight years ago. I've been very busy the past few years having a wonderful time, and I guess I don't always write as often as I should. When I first left home (I still think of Hillwood City as home) I wrote everyone quite a bit, but I have slacked off over time. But I still try to keep in touch with the old gang. You may remember that I did write you a few letters after I left, but as you never answered them I assumed you didn't care so I stopped writing. I did not know at the time that you had come down with a lengthy illness. If someone had told me, I would have kept on writing. Sorry. My fault. I should have asked after you. But now I'm writing you again. After all this time I hope you'll not hold it against me. I'm afraid this is going to be a long and rambling letter, so I hope you will be patient. But I have news and I'm writing to tell everyone in the old gang to let you all know. More of that later.  
  
I guess it will come as no surprise to you that Gerald is still my best contact back home. He and I still write each other almost weekly. We exchange e-mails when we can, but because of our remote location, we still rely on letters most of the time. Good old Gerald gives me most of the news. The rest of the gang drop a line from time to time, so I keep up pretty well. Harold never writes. I guess writing isn't his thing. But he gets Sid or Stinky to say hello for him. And Phoebe and Rhonda drop an occasional line. But Gerald is the best. He sure seems to be raking in the dough with his DJ business. Gerald tells me he now has enough to pay for Harvard Business School. He's going to own Wall Street by the time he's done!  
  
Everyone else in the old gang still seems pretty much the same. (Except for Lila. Wow! Who would have guessed? The news just about floored me when I heard it. But enough about her. I remember you and her were never close for some reason. Besides, that's all stale gossip now. But still, what a shocker!)   
  
I guess you and the rest of the gang are all anxious about getting out of high school. Won't be long now. Phoebe wrote to tell me the two of you are thinking of going to Hillwood University. I'm thinking of HU myself. They say it has an excellent medical program. Perhaps we'll see each other. But I'm getting ahead of myself.   
  
  
  
My family and I are doing just fine. I still can't believe it. Even after eight years. One day I'm with you and the gang at PS 118, then pow, everything changes. I come home from school, and there's a phone call that they found my parents alive in the jungle. Talk about being hit by lightening! Just a week later I'm flying to Central America. I'll never forget that last week in Hillwood. Such a rush to get ready and packed for the big trip. I couldn't believe I was finally going to see my parents after all that time apart. And rushing about to say good-bye to everyone. I'm really sorry you fell ill that week. I never got to give you a proper good-bye. I really did miss you when the rest of the gang came down to the airport to see me off.   
  
  
  
We have a great life down here. Father spends most of his time collecting rare plants in the jungle for medical research. I help him out when I can, and am getting pretty good in botany. (I'm thinking about medicine when I go to university.) Mother is conducting an archeology dig around an old Mayan site, lost in the jungle for many years. Her team has cut down the jungle, and exposed an entire ruined city. You have to see it to believe it. We live in a small house nearby, right where the foothills meet the jungle. It has a big garden, with all kinds of colorful flowers whose names I don't know, and there are all kinds of palm trees and vines and exotic stuff all around. It is a very remote part of the country, very rugged but beautiful. I guess I live the kind of life most kids would envy. Mom and Dad make me do my schoolwork, but I have plenty of time for fun. I ride horses every day, go swimming and sailing on the lake, and have learned the basics of mountain climbing. When I'm old enough, I'll even learn how to fly a plane. It's pretty essential if you work in this part of the world.   
  
Dad took me on one of his plant gathering expeditions last summer, and we climbed the tallest peak in the area. Gathered all kinds of mountain flowers. He's also teaching me biology and zoology. (Nadine would go crazy if she could see the bugs they have down here!) You will not believe it, but all the fresh air and exercise seems to have given me a growth spurt. I've grown considerably taller since I last saw you, and I believe I could now look down on you for a change! Also, from helping out with the digging at the site, I've developed some muscles. Lets just say Wolfgang had better watch out if I ever meet him again!  
  
  
The only drawback to living here is that it is very lonely. I guess that's why I still try to keep up with everyone back in Hillwood. We are far from any settlement, and the only people around are the teams of students who help Mom clear the lost city. When not exploring, I spend a lot of my spare time reading. I read any and everything I can get my hands on, and Gerald is good to send me the latest comics about the Z-Files, but Mom and Dad insist I read a lot of books as part of my schooling, and it's not so bad once you give it a chance.   
  
You'll laugh at this, but I've even developed a taste for poetry. There's a funny story behind it. Funny as in strange. When I left Hillwood, all the gang came down to the airport to see me off. Well, except you. You were sick. What was it anyway? I asked after you, but no one knew what was wrong. Oh well, forget it. It's not like it's anything important after all this time.  
  
I thought for sure Phoebe would know, but she was very vague for some reason. Not like her at all. You know Phoebe, always so scientific and precise. I'll never forget her saying goodbye that day at the boarding gate. She seemed very upset and unhappy. That was so unlike her. I told her she should be glad, because I was going see my parents, who I thought had been dead for six years. She told me she was sorry, and she wished me all the joy in the world, but there was something bothering her, and she just couldn't talk about it. So just to tease her I asked if she had been sworn to secrecy, and she jumped like I had shocked her. It was very strange.   
  
Then Phoebe said she had a tough problem that she didn't know how to solve. So I told her about a trick Mr. Simmons had taught me to help with problem solving. It's very simple. You take pencil and paper, and just write down whatever it is that is bothers you. All the facts, figures, and even your feelings. Then you read it, and you see if you can identify any patterns or make any connections. It is supposed to help you focus. Mr. Simmons says it really helps you concentrate. The idea is that once you know precisely what the problem is, then you can solve it. I used it once or twice, and it does help. I sometimes find that just writing a friend has the same effect, which is why I write such rambling letters. Just pouring out my feelings I guess. But back to my story. So I tell Phoebe all this. And then it was my turn to be shocked. Phoebe gave me a grim look I've never seen on her before, and she said, "You know Arnold, for someone who is nice and kind and smart and sensitive, you really are dense sometimes." She sounded really angry about it too. Then she hugged me and said she was sorry to spoil my day, and wished me all the best in the world. Very, very strange. And then my plane started boarding, and I had to leave. So I never found out what she meant.   
  
  
Now where was I? Oh, right, poetry. Well, it seems that when my back was turned, someone slipped a book of poems into my luggage. I didn't discover it until much later. It took a while, but I started reading it one day when I didn't have anything else to do, and now I really like the stuff. The funny thing is no one has ever fessed up to putting it into my bag. I've written and challenged everyone who was at the airport, but everyone denies they put the book in my bag. I figure it had to be one of them. My bag was with me in the Packard all the way to the airport. And I know no one could have put it there at the boarding house. I had packed it myself the night before, and it was by my bed all night. So it remains a mystery. No big deal.   
  
But I would like to thank whoever did it. I suppose some people just embarrass easily. I know how they feel. (I guess that's something you never had to worry about. Believe me Helga, you're lucky you're so tough. Nothing bothers you.) Have you ever noticed how some people are tough and hard on the outside, but soft and mushy on the inside? Some people don't like to admit they have a soft spot. But I admit I like poetry. Especially the love poems. Though why I don't know. It's not like I have a girl friend or anything. Like I could have a girl friend when we live a hundred miles from the nearest town. Maybe we only like love poems when we don't have anyone to recite them to.   
  
Got to stop now. My stupid sister just threw a snake in my bedroom window. Later.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. 

  
I'm back. Mom has taken my sister off to the diggings. Gertie can be a handful. You'd think she would get tired of that snake trick. And you have to be careful with the poisonous ones. But what are big brothers for if not to be targets? I always wanted a brother or sister, but do they have to like snakes quite so much? Now, back to PS 118.  
  
Rhonda sent me the latest high school class picture with all the gang. She says she always makes sure she orders extra copies. I keep it by my bed, so when I'm feeling lonely at night I can look at you. I mean, to look at all of you. I mean to look at all the gang. Anyway, back to the photo. I notice every year the class photo is the same. Rhonda always sits front row center, wearing a gorgeous dress. You can't miss her. Everyone looks a little taller or bigger each year. And I always have to hunt to find you. You're always off to the side, or hidden in the back. And you're never smiling. You always look so serious. Even mad. Can I tell you something? As a friend? You really should smile more. It's only a photo. And you really have a nice smile. I remember it. You didn't do much smiling when I was with you in PS 118, but I always thought you looked extra pretty when you did. Well, at least that's how I like to remember you.   
  
It's great to see everyone in the photo. Not too many changes. Of course Rhonda being Rhonda, in her letter she has to criticize everyone's appearance. She likes Gerald's new goatee, but pretty much dumps over everyone else. Some things never change! She mentioned you now wear a blue hat all the time, instead of your pink ribbon. (I'm sure she's told you this to your face, but she hates the hat. Says it doesn't suit you at all. Don't worry about it. She didn't like my hat either.) I find it hard to imagine you without your ribbon. You always wore that, day in and day out, without fail when we were in school together. I can't ever remember you not wearing it, actually. I like to think you still wear it, underneath your new hat.   
  
I have to confess it gave me a start when I saw it in the photo. It reminded me of the old blue baseball cap I used to wear. Remember that? You always made fun of it cause I never took it off. Anyway, it gave me a pang because the one you have now looks just like it. Sad to say, I lost it about the time I left Hillwood. It just disappeared on me. The morning of my flight, I woke up and it was gone. Just vanished. I can't remember if I took it off to go to sleep, or packed it away by mistake, or just misplaced it in the excitement. I never noticed until later. Well, it doesn't matter. My parents gave me the hat before they left on that ill-fated mercy flight when I was three. It was my only link with my folks. Funny I should lose it just as I regained them. I wish I could have kept my hat, but I guess it had served its purpose. It was no longer my only link to the ones I loved. So I don't really miss it.  
  
  
Now that I remember, that last night before I left home was really strange. And not just because my hat disappeared. The moment I heard Mom and Dad were all right, I went wild with excitement. I didn't get any rest that whole week. By my last night in Hillwood, I was exhausted, but too excited to sleep properly. I was totally buzzed. You won't remember, but there was a storm that night, with lots of rain, and thunder and lightening. I remember thinking as I went to bed that it would be just awful to be out on a night like that. And that anyone caught in that downpour would come down with pneumonia for sure. And it sure didn't help me rest for the trip. I tossed and turned for hours. Half asleep, exhausted, and terribly worried about meeting my parents after all the time apart. Would they recognize me? Would I know them? Would we like each other? I was so scared. I think I may have talked in my sleep, or maybe had a nightmare. But it turned out OK.   
  
Now, you're probably going to laugh at this, but that night I had a visitor. There I was, totally exhausted and almost delirious. Thunder rumbling far away. The rain beating against the skylight. The wind howling and rattling the old boarding house. Pitch black darkness suddenly lit up with jagged lightening. Suddenly I sensed this presence in the room with me. I had a vague impression of a someone standing by my bed. I was halfway insensible by this time. I could neither move or speak, I was so tired. And this is where you will laugh hardest at me. I'm sure it was an angel by my bed that night.   
  
That's right, an angel. And though it was very dark, I had the strongest impression she was beautiful. Very beautiful. Please don't laugh. I'm not usually given to seeing visons, but this seemed as real as anything I've ever seen. And she touched me. The angel held my hand, and told me everything would turn out all right, and that I was lucky to have parents who loved me so much. Then it gave me a hug. Weird huh? Then it got weirder. It kissed me. I didn't know angels did that sort of thing. But as soon as it did, I calmed right down. I felt a great peace come over me. I suddenly knew that I was loved and cherished, and that everything would work out for the best. And I dropped off to sleep right away. I slept like a log unitl it was time to go to the airport.   
  
Okay, maybe I dreamed it, but it seemed very real at the time. I bet you're scoffing as you read this. But I swear that's what it seemed like. Of course I was half delirious, being so tired and all. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I was stressed out. Maybe I was off my head and as crazy as Curly. But I've never forgotten it either. She was so beautiful.  
  
When I woke up in the morning I felt just great. I knew everything would turn out all right. It didn't even bother me that my skylight window was open, and there was a little rain coming in. My blanket was soaked. I suppose the wild storm had forced the latch loose, and the wind had blown the window open. Funny that would happen my last night. I never had problems with it before. Strange.   
  
Well, it turned out the angel was right. Mom and Dad couldn't have been greater. I'm really lucky to have a family again. (By the way, sorry to hear about your Mom. I hope she's feeling better. She was always very nice to me when I lived in Hillwood.) I wish you could meet my parents. I hope you don't mind, but they know all about you. Couldn't help it. I told them everything about you and the gang at PS 118, and all the adventures we had together. After I told them all about my life back home, they asked all sorts of questions about all my friends. For some reason, they keep asking me about you. Dad says you would make a good jungle explorer. He has this idea that you're going to end up living a life of adventure. He says you sound like a resourceful person. I told him you were plenty tough all right.   
  
And my Mom says she would really like to meet you. She says if we were living in Hillwood, she would have invited you over for dinner long ago. Even though they have never met you, they seem to like you for some reason. I keep talking about PS 118 and the whole gang. But I guess for some reason I keep talking about you more than most of the others. I think I gave them the wrong impression. They seem to think I was sweet on you or something. (Please, don't be angry. I know that's the last thing you would ever want. It's not my fault. It's just that parents get some goofy ideas sometimes. But no matter how many times I tried telling them that there was never anything between us, they just don't seem to believe me. And the more I protest, the more they shake their heads and smile. I mean, they're great and everything, but why do they have to embarrass me like that? But I guess it's my own fault. I can't keep my mouth shut. When you haven't seen someone for six years, you tend to talk a lot, trying to catch up.)  
  
To be honest, Mom also asks about the other girls I knew at PS 118. If we ever go home, Mom will be inviting the whole neighborhood over for dinner. I think she does it for my sister. Did I tell you about Gertie? (Named for her grandmother.) She is nine years old now. (The same age you were when I last saw you.) And she has never been home. She has grown up here in the wild back country, and she is rather wild herself. And she is getting worse. I mean, I thought you were bad when you were nine. She's ten times worse than you ever were. You never put a snake in my bed each morning. Everytime she pulls some new stunt, I remember how you used to tease me, and I realize now how easy I had it with you. Unfortunately, she makes me remember you quite a lot. There are a lot of snakes around here.   
  
I tell my parents that if we ever go back to Hillwood, I will introduce her to Nadine. Gertie has a bug collection you would not believe. I spend half my time looking out for her. It's nice to have family, but I never knew it involved taking so much responsibility for someone else. You are so lucky you have Olga for a big sister. It must be a great comfort to you to have someone you can turn to for comfort and support. Mom says what Gertie needs is some sort of big sister to set her an example. Someone who would be tough enough to win her respect, but smart and fun to be with. Show her how to be strong and responsible, but still lady-like. I don't know, sounds pretty impossible to me. And who would take on a job like that? Maybe we could ask that Big Sis program that Olga worked for. There must be a super-girl out there who can do the job.   
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. 

  
  
The truth is, I guess my parents ask me about you because I talk about you a lot. Especially because I keep telling them over and over about the day I learned they were still alive. You have probably forgotten, but every detail of that day is burned on my memory. It started out being the worst day of my life. A really bad day. Do you remember?   
  
We were at school and all day you were really bugging me, worse than usual it seemed. And everything else was rotten. Mr. Simmons was after me to star in the new school play, and Wolfgang was pushing everyone around on the playground. And Rhonda was at her fashion police worst, bugging me about my 'kilt.' And Curly was more crazy than usual, bad even for him. And Harold was complaining to me about some problem he had. And Sid was all worried about some stupid thing he had done. And I accidentally caused Eugene to fall down the stairs and he had to go to the nurse, and he called me a jinx. Even Gerald was mad at me because we were arguing whether Mickey Kaline was the best home run hitter of his time. It seemed like everyone had a problem to solve, and the problems all had to be solved at once. And it was up to me to solve everything and make everybody happy. That's a real burden. I like to help people, but I'm not perfect. What if I get it wrong? What if I give the wrong advice? What if I overlook someone? What if there is someone who needs me and I don't even know they need me? It gets to be too much sometimes.   
  
To top it all, at recess I was talking to Lila, just trying to be nice, and she got annoyed and told me to stop hanging around her. She said she didn't even 'like me' anymore. And there I was sitting in class, and feeling really terrible, and this spitball comes out of nowhere and hits me in the head. And I whipped around and I could see you making another spitball, and you snarled "What?," at me, and well... I guess I just lost it. I snapped. I got really mad and just took all my anger and dumped it on you. You must remember. I shouted, "Why do you act that way. Why are you so mean? Why do you have to act like such a jerk all the time? I used to think that deep down you were nice, and were just afraid to show your good side, but I guess I was wrong. You're nasty and cruel and evil. You're just a bad person through and through, and you'll never change. Never! I hate you and I never want to see you again!" Then I realized that I was screaming at the top of my lungs, and the whole class was frozen in silence, and everyone was staring at me. And you had this look of utter horror on your face. I don't blame you. It must have been awful to have to listen to that. I felt like a complete and total idiot. Then Mr. Simmons took me for a talk with Principal Wirtz, and I ended up in detention. Well, I deserved it. I shouldn't have acted like that. I felt just terrible about everything once I cooled off. I know this is really late, but I've never been able to muster the courage until today. I'm sorry. My behavior was totally inexcusable. And I've never forgiven myself for it. I should never have lost my temper like that. Like I said, it was a really bad day.   
  
Anyway, I went home, feeling lower than low. I went into our boarding house kitchen, and got myself some milk and cookies. I was still feeling bad for shouting at you. I decided to phone you and apologize. And then the doorbell rang. I opened it up and boy, was I surprised. There you were, standing on the front step of the boarding house. And till my dying day I'll never forget the look on your face. You looked so scared. I never felt so ashamed of myself in my life. I was going to start saying I was sorry, when you asked if you could come in. You sounded so meek, almost a whisper. You said you had something really important to tell me. So I took you into the kitchen, and sat you down, and poured you a glass of milk, and gave you a plate of cookies. Then you took my hand and said, "Arnold, there's a reason I act the way I do."   
  
And then the phone rang.   
  
  
It was the embassy in Central America, and they had found my parents. And then they put them on the line. And I heard my mother's voice. And I talked to my mother and father for the first time in six years. Needless to say, I was stunned and shocked and out of my mind with happiness. I'm sorry to say I completely forgot you were there in the room with me. The only thing I can remember is that once I gave the phone to Grandpa and Grandma I turned around and you were still standing there, and I grabbed you and gave you the biggest hug I ever gave anyone in my life. (Now that I think of it, you're about the only person outside my family I've ever hugged. More than once too. Isn't it funny how you were always around when I needed to hug someone?)   
  
  
And then I went really crazy. I kissed you. Sorry about that. I wasn't thinking straight. I hope you didn't mind. I was carried away by the moment. I guess I would have kissed Abner if he had been standing there. (Not that I'm comparing you to Abner! I mean, he's a great pig, and he never smells, and he never rolls in the garbage, and he's always clean and fat and pink and cute and curly-tailed, and always cheerful and kind-hearted and lovable, but he's not like you at all.)   
  
And then I told you everything about my folks, how they had been lost for six years, and how they had been found, and how they were heroes to the villagers in that remote mountain valley, and how they were offered special research grants as a reward for their saving all those people from the epidemic, and how they couldn't leave, and how they wanted me to fly down and join them right away. And you said that was great. And then I was rushing around and telling all the boarders, and yelling at the top of my voice. But when I turned around, you were gone. And that was the last time I saw you. And that very week you came down with that illness, and I never saw you again, and you never did tell me what was the important thing you wanted to tell me about.   
  
And that's how the worst day of my life turned out to be the best day of my life. Have you ever had something like that happen to you? Where the day starts off really, really bad, but suddenly turns out really, really good? Even great? I suppose there are some people who start off having a really bad day, and then it suddenly turns even worse, and ends up really, really, really bad. I can't imagine what that would be like.  
  
But I hope that one day you will have a wonderful surprise like I had that day. Where maybe the day didn't go so well, but something really, really nice happens, and suddenly it turns out to be the best day of your life. Everbody deserves a day like that.  
  
Mom is calling me for supper. I will finish this later.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. 

  
Hi there. It's me again. Finished supper, and now I'm in my special place. Our house sits on the edge of this long lost city that my mom and her team of archeologists are digging up. There are lots of old stone temples and palaces and other buildings. We've cleared away the worst of the jungle, but the ruins are still covered with moss and vines and wild flowers growing out of nooks and crannies. There is one ancient pyramid that is my favorite, and it is where I go when I want to be alone. Mom says it used to be an observatory, where the rulers of this city watched the stars ages and ages ago. It is just a short hike from where I live. There's a flat platform on top, where the ancient kings and astronomers held court. From it you can look out over the green rooftop of the jungle to the nearby mountains. I like to watch the sunsets. They are just breathtaking. The sky turns red and orange and gold, sliding into purple and indigo, before fading into darkness. Those nights the moon comes out early, it just hangs in the dark blue sky low over the ruined city, and everything gets very quiet and still.  
  
  
It can feel very lonely at times, but I like it because it reminds me of the boarding house. Me and Gerald and Grandpa used to sit on the roof with my telescope and watch for comets and meteor showers and such. We actually didn't see too many stars because we were in the city, and the light pollution spoiled the view, but this place sure makes up for it. Some nights I come out here, climb to the summit, lie on my back and look straight up at the heavens. We are miles from any town, so you would not believe how black the sky can be, and how the thousands of stars light it up. There are so many of them. Sometimes, staring upwards, I forget I'm fixed to the ground and I feel like I'm floating in the Milky Way, with galaxies and constellations and solar systems swirling around me. It is beautiful beyond words. And I always think, "Wouldn't it be great to share this with someone." And sometimes I forget I'm alone, and I stretch out my hand, as if there is someone in the dark at my side, looking up at the stars with me. But there is no one. There never is.  
  
Like I said, it is very lonely here at times.   
  
All this is a round about way of telling you my big news. You see, my parents are worried about my education. They are great teachers and have made sure I've kept up my studies, but now it's almost time for me to go to university. I'll have to start in about a year, but my folks think we should go back a little early, so I can ease into the regular school routine. They want me to finish my education at a regular high school, as they think that the best preparation for university. Since I came here I've been though earthquakes, bandits, revolutions, floods, avalanches and epidemics. But they think I need to get used to regular schooling. Go figure. So I'm coming home to Hillwood. To the boarding house. And I'll be going to school for my final term with you and all the other kids from the old neighborhood.   
  
Mom and Dad are worried I've missed out on a lot of the things that go with growing up. You know, things like school dances, and team sports and having friends, and going to the prom. They say I should have a chance for some fun with people my own age. I guess they are worried about my 'socialization.' We are far from any settlement, and the only people here are the archeology team and my dad's research assistants. Not a kid among them. There isn't a girl my own age within a hundred miles of here. I'm just a year from university and I've never had a date. Well, a proper date. Unless you count the times you and I went out when we were going to PS 118. Do you remember the time you took us to that French restaurant and you couldn't pay the bill? And we ended up washing dishes? That was about the most glamorous night out I've ever had. I think about it a lot. I laugh about it whenever I think about it. You know, washing the dishes wasn't so bad. I know you will laugh at this, but that's about as close to a real date as I've ever had. And you are the closest thing to a girl-friend I've ever had.   
  
Eduardo, (that's my father's friend) says not to worry, I will make up for lost time once I get home. He likes to kid me. He says I'm just like my dad; a true romantic, always seeing clipper ships in the clouds as they float by. He teases me and says I must have left a lot of broken hearts behind me when I left Hillwood and came here. I always get embarrassed when he says that. I mean, come on. I was only nine years old when I left. How many hearts could I have broken?   
  
  
  
So anyway, I'm starting to think of home, and seeing everyone again. I've written to everybody, telling them the news. I left your letter to last, because I wanted to get it right. Because I have a favor to ask. So. Here it is. Phoebe still writes me from time to time. She tells me all the news, pretty much the same stuff Gerald tells me. But I always look out for her letters because she always says something about you. Because you never write yourself, I don't know what's happening with you. And sometimes I worry about you. Phoebe says you never date and never go to parties or dances. I was surprised to hear that. You were always at the same parties and dances I went to at PS 118. Phoebe says you're a very different person now. She says you spend all your time studying, and working very hard. Phoebe also says you are much more quiet. She says you've been like that for quite a while. In fact, since about the time I went away. I guess maybe that illness took a lot out of you. It must have been serious.  
  
  
Anyway, I know you don't like parties and that stuff, but I would like to see you once I get home. Maybe we could go to the movies or something? Dinner at a French restaurant? (I'll pay.) On second thought, maybe Italian or Chinese. Seems I've never had much luck with French restaurants. Or maybe just a walk in the park, with an ice cream sundae at Slausen's afterwards? And I know it is a little early, but if you need a date for the prom, I'm available. Though I'm a very bad dancer, I'm so out of practice. I'll probably step all over your feet. And you'll have to watch out for the slow dances. I gave my mom a hug the other day, and she says I almost crushed her in half. You see, I help out with the digging on the site, and all that hard work has given me very strong muscles. I feel very clumsy sometimes, and Mom always warns me to be careful because I'm always breaking things, as I don't know my own strength. But I know you're tough. You would never let me squeeze you too tight.   
  
Oh, and another thing. I've had a growth spurt, and I'm much taller than when you last saw me. It's hard to judge from the photos the gang sends me, but I think I may even be a foot taller than you now, give or take an inch or so. It will be very strange looking down at you. Or will you feel strange looking up at me? Don't worry. I still remember what it was like to see you looming over me at PS 118. I'll try not to look intimidating. (What I am doing? I don't even know if you'll say yes!) But I hope you will. I hope you will at least think about it. Take your time. No rush. But please say yes.  
  
You see, I really want a chance to make it up to you for the way I treated you that last day. Well, more than that. Now that I think about it, I really wasn't that good a friend to you when we were together. I guess I was always avoiding you when we were at PS 118. I mean, I cared about you, like I cared for all my friends, but I was also a little scared of you, because of all the teasing you gave me. And sometimes, when I tried to be nice to you, you would get so mad and push me away. So after a while I kind of gave up trying to understand why you acted like that, and mostly tried to avoid you. I used to think I could help almost anyone, but I guess I'm not as good at helping others as I thought. I never could make you happy, or solve your problems. I was never even sure what your problems were. Maybe I should have used that focusing exercise Mr. Simmons taught me. It just seems that I could never really do right by you. Instead, I always seemed to make things worse. I would try and help you and you would get even more angry and push me away. I'm sorry. It was all my fault. I guess I didn't try hard enough.   
  
So that's why I hope you will give me a chance to make it up to you. I know I'm not perfect. I know I'm not good at helping you. Maybe Phoebe is right. Maybe I'm dense. Maybe I'm no good at solving people's problems. But at least I can be a friend. I can try to be the very best friend I can for you. If nothing else, I can listen. I'll just sit with you, and you can tell me anything you want. Anything. You talk. I'll listen. Like a good friend should. And I promise I will not laugh at you, or tell anybody else what you say, or make you feel bad afterwards. Maybe you can even tell me what it was you were going to say that day in the kitchen. I'll even supply the milk and cookies. Helga, won't you please give me a chance?   
  
  
Sorry, got to go. I hear my mom calling. Eduardo has just returned with supplies, and he seems to have news. There is a great deal of excitement down at the house, and people are rushing around. So I will close for now. Please write soon.  
  
  
Your friend,  
  
Arnold  
  
  
PS - My parents have just told me that we are leaving for home immediately. They got lucky and have made a great connection for the flight home, but we must leave at once. I have to pack. Arnold.  
  
  
  
  
PPS - I'm writing this on the plane. I guess you've noticed this letter has no stamp or postmark on it. I didn't have time to mail it. Besides, we'll be home before it could arrive by mail. Much simpler to deliver it myself. Arnold.  
  
  
  
PPPS - I am home! I am sitting on my bed in the boarding house, writing this just before I turn off the light and go to sleep. We arrived late in this evening. I will have to wait for tomorrow before I see anyone. I will drop this off as soon as I can, so you will be sure to get it right away. Until then. A.   
  
  
  
PPPPS - I am sitting on a bench in the park near your house, writing this final postscript. I've been waiting for you to come home from school. I've thought about just calling to see you, but I'm afraid I will get tongue-tied. This letter says pretty much what I want to say. Most of it, anyway. So, as soon as I see you go into your house, I'm going to run up the steps and drop this letter through the mail slot, and ring the bell. Then I'll run off and wait at the boarding house. Please call me. As soon as you can. I'm really nervous about this.   
  
  
PPPPPS - I've been sitting here waiting for some hours now. While waiting, I've reread this letter. And I've been thinking. I'm trying to read between the lines. There's something there I was not aware of. I can sense it. So I've been sitting here. Focusing. Concentrating. Making connections. I guess when I started writing this long rambling letter, I was trying to work something out. And it seems there must be a simpler, shorter way of saying what I'm trying to say. What I mean is... I ... Oh, I'm not sure. (Forget about it. Please ignore this postscript. Just nerves.)   
  
  
PPPPPPS - You're home from school! You've just gone up the steps and in the door. I can see you through your living room window as I write this. (Looks like you had a bad day.) I can't believe it's been eight years. But it really is you! If I was nervous before, I'm really scared now. Change of plan. I'll give you a few minutes to read this letter. Then I'll come visit. Because I'm anxious to see you, and find out what you think. Listen for the doorbell. That will be me. Calling for you.  
  
  
PPPPPPPS - Wow! You've - um - "grown."  
  
  
PPPPPPPPS - By the time you read this (and if my timing is right) I should be walking up your front steps and about to ring your doorbell. Oh, and sorry about that last postscript. I'm afraid it was rather crude. This is what I really meant to say. I think you are very, very, very beautiful.  
  
  
  
PPPPPPPPPS - I think I've finally figured out what I really wanted to say before.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
PPPPPPPPPS - I love you.  
  
  
  
(Ding-Dong!!!)  
  
  
  
  
  
THE END  
  
  
  



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